The Fame
by Miasmic
Summary: /Rewrite of unfinished story from old account!/ As an orphan, Sakura had never considered herself lucky. That is, until Tsunade, the wealthiest women alive, chose to take her in as her own. A fable about wealth, greed, libel, love, and most importantly, the shit you get for not knowing who Sasuke Uchiha is. / M or language, new plot. Still active!


The Fame

Chapter 1: Magazines

By Miasmic

* * *

I've never considered myself a lucky person. Plenty of people say I'm crazy for not believing it, arguing that surviving a house fire— one that my parents didn't—was proof enough that some evident fortune was shining on me. But babies aren't _lucky _they are small— the world made them that way. And because I was just a baby, stuck to the ground, too small to stand and breathe in the rising smoke, I was allowed enough time for the firemen to discover me before my lungs failed. No, I don't consider myself lucky. Lucky people don't end up in orphanages for 16 years.

Though for the first time in my life, I have no logical explanation for this fortune bestowed on me— just one week ago, Tsunade, the wealthiest, most successful women alive, adopted me— and just before the orphanage was going to kick me out. As she scribbled her signature on the paperwork I reminded her that I have no talents, no special gifts— nothing. Why in the world would she want _me_? _Me_, a pessimistic, pitiful teenager, over the cute, goodhearted five year olds with sparkling wide eyes. Deep in the recesses of my mind, I wondered if it was just a celebrity thing; to adopt the most misfortunate, uneducated children you could find— you know, as some kind of charitable act, giving back to society and all even though most of those kids come out worse than when they left. Tsunade simply explained that she had a good feeling about me. As if I wasn't suspicious enough— she probably just pitied me. However, this isn't her first time adopting one of my kind. Like many other rich celebrities, she's got a shit ton of children. Too many to count actually. I can't even imagine how old she is behind that age defying face.

Nevertheless, I try to dismiss my doubts in light of the greater picture. I've seen the reality shows airing on the tiny, fuzzy orphanage TV and have always wondered if that's what it's really like to live it large. It never seemed possible for me to find out, so I never wasted my envy on such a lifestyle. But now… well, I would be lying if I said I'm not eager to see what being famous is like.

After all, how bad can being rich be?

My high heeled shoes click against the dirty public pavement with all the grace in the world. Maybe if you listen closely, you can hear the twinge of paranoia behind it. I asked Tsunade's body guards to back off a bit, maybe watch me from the shadows as I roam the city so as to not attract attention. I mean tall, wide shouldered men clad in all black following a girl protectively must attract the pedestrian's eye. What was the point of having a scarf to veil my hair and wearing those wide rimmed, tinted sunglasses, even though the sky was clearly a dull grey, if I was going to be found out anyways? I understand Tsunade's worry; an amateur like me stuck on the streets of Amegakure City all alone didn't paint a safe picture. However, if I'm going to learn to do this whole "famous" thing on my own, I need to do it— _on my own. _She had suggested I stay inside the hotel room until we depart, but being showered with room service and paparazzi the whole week is really exhausting, and not to mention bothersome. There was no way to get some peace and quiet in all that ruckus. I just had to leave, see the world, just as I used to in the orphanage. Being cooped up in a room is just not my style.

I strut on the sidewalk, watching the normal people walk carelessly by me. A young couple is making out on a bench; no one bothers them. An old man struggles down the street; no one helps him. A homeless woman, hugging her two children close to her, begs for money; no one sees her.

I spot a paparazzi shot of Tsunade walking me out of a salon on a magazine at a nearby stand, and it occurs to me, watching these normal beings go about their lives untouched, that there is one thing I already miss: a separation between public and private life.

With a defeated sigh I walk over to get a better look at the magazine, C-Weekly, and I read the large bold beside us: 'Pampering the poor? Tsunade brings new adopted teenager to salon?' The man at the stand sees me staring and throws on an entrepreneur's grin.

"Would you like to purchase one?" He inquires right away. I pick up the magazine with me on in and slide it on the counter. The man looks at me questioningly.

"Do you think Tsunade really likes this girl? Or is she just using her?"

"Using her for what?"

"Fame, of course." I explain, sliding the magazine back onto the rack.

"Can't say. Not many know what Tsunade's intentions are, Ma'am. It's said that she gets her hands on the worlds most talented children. Many reckon that the new girl has some sort of rich skill. Wouldn't you say?"

I smile kindheartedly at him, "Not at all. She looks like a glass half empty kinda gal."

"Quite bold words you have there," He chuckles, suddenly interested, "Got any proof?"

"No," I respond, shaking my head lightly, "Just my gut."

"Well, gut can only take you so far."

"It hasn't failed me yet."

I smile again, but the man doesn't do the same. Instead, he is studying my face. Not for my reaction, but the curves, the color, and the shape of it. I panic and reach for a random magazine, pretending to look over the cover when I am actually shielding my face. Surprisingly, this magazine isn't about me. It's an issue from 'WHAT' magazines. On the cover is an onyx haired male, blanketed in a white, baggy sweater that is unzipped, exposing his pale toned chest. He shoves his hands in his pants pockets, tilting his head back coolly in a pose for the camera. He looks like he's glaring, which is really poor propaganda if you think about it. In oversized red letter, as if the editor forgot to take off the 'caps lock', it reads: 'Sasuke Uchiha, sexiest man alive? _So true_, says millions of woman out there.'

In pure curiosity, I display the magazine in front of the salesman, asking: "Who's this?"

The man doesn't hide how astonished he is at the apparent idiotic question. His eyes, wide an all, scream at my ignorance, silently judging.

"Why, Ma'am, it says it on the cover."

"No no. I mean, why is he so famous?" I amend.

"Pardon me, but, as it says on the cover, he was voted the most wanted man alive."

I frown at his tone, and his lack of specificity. I'm not stupid, and I sure as hell can read.

"Forgive me, but surely he is known something other than that," I press, "What does he do: act, dance, sing?"

"Everything, naturally. It's not just his looks that they prize him for. Haven't you seen any of the award ceremonies? I don't know how many he's won. Can't count on ten fingers alone, anyways." The man looks at me to see if I am pleased, but I am lost in the picture, "Good news for all of the women out there, though: He's single."

I glance up briefly at the salesperson, not noticing the scrutinizing look he gives me, narrow eyes and all.

"Hey," He muses slowly, close to an epiphany, "Your remind me of someone."

"I've never met you before, so that's impossible," I chuckle nervously, backing away from the stand a half a step.

"No, no. Someone from a picture," he mumbles. Suddenly, he reaches over and snatches my shades. Dumbfounded, I gaze at him in disbelief. He gasps at my emerald eyes, my pink eyebrows, and ivory skin, identical to person the magazine he was so eager to sell. In a moment, my guards are at my side, leading me away when a small crowd gathers from the excited yells of the salesman, "That was her! I was talking to her! Tsunade's adopted child! Sakura! Sakura Haruno!"

The man was pointing at my retreating figure, causing curious looks and excited smiles to go my way. People will do anything to get close to a celebrity, although I couldn't really say I counted as one. As a limousine pulls up by an empty curb, already camera lights are flashing. The guards help me into the back and the driver hits accelerate. It starts raining.

* * *

I rip the crooked fabric from my head and throw it onto the hotel couch. Tsunade is waiting for me, and I scurry over, taking a seat on the couch across from her. She shortly glances my way before turning on the TV, a flat screen hanging on the far wall. The channel is already set to 'WHATTV', as indicated from the red and white logo in the right corner. I slump in my seat when an inconspicuous picture of me standing at the magazine stand flashes onto the screen, then another of the salesman reaching over and snatching my shades.

The reporter begins speaking:

'_Just this hour, as it seems, Tsunade's adopted teen was spotted conversing free willingly with the public! As bystanders say: _She was quite under the radar._ Will she be different from the barely seen Tsunade? After today's event many are having high hopes. Ms. Haruno had decided to take a stroll down the busy streets of Amegakure, when, as reports have claimed, she took a stop at a nearby magazine stand. Let's bring it over to Kira for the latest news on that:'_

The screen switches over to another female reporter, this one standing by the magazine stand, holding a microphone in one hand, and an umbrella in the other.

'_Here we are, at the very magazine stand that Ms. Haruno has made her first alone public appearance. We have Alfred Wane with the claims on Ms. Haruno's words. Mr. Wane, why do you think Ms. Haruno came to your stand?'_

The man I met before comes into view, talking as the female puts the microphone to his face:

'_I honestly have no idea, Kira. She was walking by and came over to comment on how wonderfully my magazines were organized.'_

"Wha! That's not true! I didn't say—" I start, my gaping soon cut off by Tsunade's stern raise of the hand. Mr. Wane continues:

'_She walked over, looking much like a normal pedestrian to me, and started asking about one of my magazines.'_

Reporter: _'And which one was that?'_

Mr. Wane: _'The one with her on it, of course. I reckon she doesn't like being on cover pages, by the way her mouth seemed to frown. I must say, she was quite the mannered girl, chuckling cutely and asking nicely. I felt very comfortable around her.'_

Reporter: _'Oh! Please elaborate on her questions!'_

Mr. Wane: _'She was asking me why I think Ms. Tsunade chose her. I said I don't recall anything suspicious about it, but that other people reckon she's got some special talent. She told me she doesn't think she has a talent. I wondered why, because the girl sure did seem like she had a forte for kindness.'_

Reporter: _'What else did she talk about?'_

Mr. Wane: _'Well, she wasn't fond of Mr. Uchiha, considering she was asking about who he was.'_

Reporter: _'No!'_

She gasps, covering her mouth. Several other breath intakes are heard from the sidelines.

Mr. Wane: _'I know, I couldn't believe it myself! She was truly clueless about him, so I elaborated. Couldn't understand why Ms. Tsunade never taught her about the other celebrities out there. Do you reckon there is television in an orphanage? Because Ms. Haruno must have been quite isolated from the social world.'_

Reporter: _'No doubt. Well, how has business been going in the last hour?'_

Mr. Wane: _'Very well, if I may say so. Ms. Haruno really helped me out there. I sold—"_

Tsunade turns the television off, sighing in relief, "It's not as bad as I had feared."

I sigh as well, sinking into the cushions. Tsunade gazes tiredly at me, mumbling, "Please, be more careful in the public. Never just _stand_ there when you're noticed. Just walk away casually. You don't want to seem like an idiot, do you?"

I scowl at nothing, recalling how I didn't escape when I had the chance. We sit there in fatigue silence before Tsunade ruins it.

"So, would you like to have singing lessons? Or maybe dance? Figure skating?" She questions casually.

I raise a brow, "Why would I need that?"

"Don't you want to become famous?" She asks, tilting her head curiously, "I'm simply providing you with the means to do so."

I grin heartedly at her.

_To be continued…_

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**A/N: So this is a rewrite from my old, barely used account **_**Point of Departure.**_** Since I like this story, and this is my more active, serious account, I decided to bring it back, rewrite the last chapters, and develop a more complex plot. Here it is! I miss writing this story and I had originally had big plans for it, so this feels good. Sorry for those who have stuck with me the whole way on my old account…. I know you are all so impatient with me. But I'm bringing this back! And it'll be more interesting!**

**I'll add a note or something to those who were reading from my old account. I bet they'll be pissed, cause I'm pretty sure I already deleted and republished this story once on that account.**

**I'm making this story more mature too: meaning- more adult language, adult theme, ect. No lemon! This aint the story for that haha. But yeah, I hope you guys like it! Since I have already written six chapters for the old version, updates will be coming fast before slowing down.**

**As always, review! And check out my other stories! I'll be updating A Million Pieces of Eight soon (hopefully)!**


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